Sunday, February 18, 2018

A wish for the newest generation

While two of my granddaughters stayed with us last week, we tried to keep busy every minute.

One of the activities was to listen to a song by Lee Ann Womack, "I hope you dance."

I have a children's book in my office with pictures that accompany the song -- the only children's book in that room -- so after the colored pencils and the magnets have been played with, the globe has been twirled and the easy chair has been jumped on and spun around, the book comes out. And when I can't exactly remember the melody, I find the old CD player and we hear it sung right.

The words were written by Mark Sanders and Tia Sillers and so perfectly capture the feelings I have as I watch these little spirits take on the world.

Here are a few:

"I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean.
Whenever one door closes, I hope one door opens.
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance.
And when you get the choicer to sit it our or dance ..

"I hope you dance."

That has been my wish for all my children, and now my grandchildren. It is something I have always tried to do.

And it is a great blessing to see them embrace the world and its beauties and opportunities.

And stand beside the ocean.

And dance.

Friday, November 10, 2017

Bison Roundup - a taste of the Wild West








I wasn't sure I'd be the one to cover it this year, but was glad to be at the Antelope Island Bison Roundup one more time. It's always fun to see the training -- and warnings -- the riders get, to see them head out, to be at the Mulberry Grove when the bison pass, to watch the finely tuned ballet as 300 riders drive 700 bison to corrals for testing and immunizations. Like so many I spoke with said, it's a rare chance to see the action of the Wild West so close to home. I was glad for yet another chance.

Wednesday, October 18, 2017

It was worth it

We didn't know when we got up at 5 a.m. and drove for an hour and hiked with flashlights for half-a-mile more that we would run into 20 people already set up for the sunrise at Mesa Arch in Canyonlands.

And we didn't know that it would be a space so small that only the early few would get the prime shots as the sun would light the underside of the arch and the canyons and rock formations in the valley below.

Or that people from Norway and Japan, India and Texas would be vying for the shots past rows of photographers who'd set up tripods already an hour before and that by sunrise there would be more than dozens, there would be hundreds.

But we had our muffins and orange juice and could last all the way until the others had gotten their shots.

















And it was worth it.

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

2017 Solar Eclipse

It was all about the sun that day, starting with first light over the mountains as we headed north from Utah to Idaho.

Despite what we'd feared after hearing months of build-up preceding the Great American Eclipse, traffic was clear along the back roads through Preston, Star Valley and Swan Valley.


Entrepreneurs were everywhere, but takers seemed light. 


Before the action started, we could look at sunspots visible through my brother-in-law's telescope.

The sun was too much -- even when partially covered by the moon -- for my lens to make sense of. Covering it with my eclipse glasses didn't help, but looking at shadows did.


I heard in some places it was really quiet during totality. We couldn't help exclaim -- and loudly -- at the beautiful aura that was visible when the moon fully blocked the sun. Different exposures show different things -- what was closest to what our eyes saw is the third one.




It was the drive home when we learned that, yes, people really did turn out for the celestial show. What should have been a four-hour drive took nine.



But it was worth it. To see something we hadn't seen in 60 years of living.
And again the sun made an impression at the end of the day.